


A Starchild's Guide to Living After Surviving

by I_Otaku



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, this is foR ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Otaku/pseuds/I_Otaku
Summary: Reza has a lot of love in their heart, and more than a few loose ends to try and tie up.(A campaign that means a lot to me just ended, and I'm not ready to let go just yet.)
Relationships: OC/OC
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

"Something's been bothering you." It was an innocuous statement. Not a probing question nor a demand for an explanation. Reza just  _ said _ it, not slowing in their placing of bricks in the slightest. Nonetheless Anole jittered from their seat on the only chair in the room, kicking one leg down from the chair's arm to lean towards Reza. 

"W-Whaddya mean?" They grumbled. "'M fine. Foxworthy's dead. I'm…  _ thrilled _ ."

"I can see the relaxation in you sometimes, yes," Reza continued their work completely unbothered, "But it's a true statement." They slathered another brick in slit and pressed it down into the dirt, before a firm shove up to slot in place with the others. The Celestian temple still needed nearly a hundred square feet of brickwork like this done for the floorings- and Reza had all the time in the world. (Taeral had specifically asked to not fix the church with magic- they were willing to replace the intricate night sky mosaic in the center chamber floor just as everything else- but anyone could tell they could use help. They had already been tasked with retrofitting the temple prior, and one set of hands could only get so far so fast. Reza had a promise to keep, two important people to properly introduce to one another, and more than a few thoughts to bounce around their head with mindless work- so everything worked out.)

Anole folded their arms up behind their head and returned to incorrectly using the chair. "It's fine. I’m fine." 

"Would you like my attention?" Reza looked up, cool grey brick in their hands. "I know it can freak you out sometimes and I wouldn't wish to make this any harder. I am more than willing to give it to you if you do wish though." 

Anole bristled again, drawing their legs in to plant feet on the arm of the chair. "No." 

"I'll continue my work then," They spoke cheerfully. "My rather large ears are open if you'd like. Or closed if you'd prefer." They swiped at the compressed dirt beneath them, making another mental note to thank Keydi and Bingle for their help earlier in the week. 

Maybe they'd like another plant? Or perhaps that was too thoughtless, Reza had seen their plant collection with personal and beautiful (Or in Keydi's case- messy) handwriting on each pot. Each was an important moment between them. They pondered idly as they slathered slit on the brick, placed it- and shoved it into its spot.

"It's…" Anole started a sentence, but as the pause extended Reza realized they weren't quite ready to finish it yet. They didn't mind. The sun had just barely passed its peak when they arrived, Taeral offering drinks in their own work clothes. Anole ended up being the only one dressed any semblance of normal, as they naturally wore work clothes. Reza in cargo shorts and a tank top, Taeral in something akin to Reza's monk clothes but cut shorter and smaller. Again it seemed Anole was the only one naturally acclimated, both the others sweating buckets as they worked under the half standing roof and sun. Now the temperature had begun its slow drop.

While Reza worked Anole would run the containers of slit, collecting swamp water or stone powder from other rooms in the church. Reza let them sit in peace as they continued laying bricks, humming idly a tune they heard at a wedding years back. Bardic songs that told stories were always easier to remember. Dropping off the third container of slit, Anole dropped themselves to sit behind Reza. Reza continued humming, letting the words slip out between little grunts and groans of knocking bricks together. They would have to go collect more soon, lifting one of the pallets would be a nice change of pace from the fine motor skills they were using now. And to their credit- they only flinched slightly as Anole fell now back to back with them. 

“I’ll be working,” Reza said softly. 

“I know.”

“Alright then,” They slathered slit, placed a brick, and knocked it gingerly into place. They admired the aspect behind Taeral’s decision. Celestian was all about change, what would be the point in using magic to return the dilapidated building to identical perfection? This was long, and arduous, and sweaty- and the building would be new. It would be personal and hold the handprint of everyone who came through in construction and offered help. A wizard lizardfolk had come through earlier in the week with an exceptional handle on potion bottles and glass who offered to loiter around Miyami to help create new stained glass windows. Banjo and Hjolmond had swung around at the very beginning after the dust had settled to offer gold and some specialized help (heavy lifting on the latters parts and music on the formers). Keydi and Bingle helped terraform the dirt- Righteous, Palmetto and Shark helped with donations, acquiring the right and best materials, and making sure both ended up at the church. When Reza was done doing any heavy lifting for proper building restoration, pushing up support beams for buildings and knocking around roof supports the build crew couldn’t reach- This was a welcome distraction. And just like that the pleasant busy but empty thoughts chugged along their familiar train of thought. 

Reza could think about their friends, about rebuilding Miyami, about helping the fortitude, about Anole and Taeral, and not think about…

“Foxworthy killed somebody important to me.” They were completely outside Reza’s field of view, Reza almost forgot Anole was there at all aside from the familiar warm pressure against their back, rocking with each movement.

They weren’t quite sure how to respond, but a gentle noncommittal hum seemed to be just what Anole was looking for.

“I don’t talk about ‘em much anymore... Nobody does.” 

Another hum. Reza worked. Anole sat.

“I’m glad Foxworthy is dead.” They spat, moving sharply off of Reza before falling back again. “I know it won’t bring ‘im back but… I wanted my revenge. I wanted payback for what he did to me.”

The gentle knock of placing bricks. The clatter of lifting a brick from the shrinking pile. The wet slather of applying slit.

“I miss him. I miss him a lot Reza.” They felt Anole turn now, pressing the side of their head and bony shoulder against their back. “I don’t know what to do with myself now with all the missing him. Before it-... it was a fire under my ass- y’know? It got me up, it kept me moving. Now…”

Reza paused just slightly to push their glasses back up their nose, swiping sweat laden curls back up their head. 

“You can talk now.” Anole said quietly. 

“Thank you for telling me about him,” Reza returned to their work, “I appreciate it.”

Anole hummed something in the back of their mouth Reza recognized as a  _ ‘shut up’ _ sound. 

“You don’t have to know right away, it’s okay to take your time and unpack those feelings. You don’t need to find a new cause or permanent job. You may loiter in and out with the winds. Take your time to understand why you’re feeling this way.” 

“I-... It’s like- I know but at the same time I don’t. I just-” Anole grumbled something and Reza felt them shuffle around- before the familiar sound of them flicking open their pocket knife echoed in the space. Then it was a constant, open and close and open and close and-

“Have you tried talking to Palmetto? He could probably help.”

“Yeah, he probably could…” Anole mumbled. “I’ve been… Well I’ve been too afraid to really, like say anything about this. T-To anyone. Like, at all.”

“That makes sense,” Reza replied gently. “You’ve only now realized there’s more than vengeance.” 

“I always knew, but- but it was easier to ignore that so I wouldn’t have to think about the aftermath. To realize I was really alone now.”

Reza stopped, turning to look over their shoulder. Anole glanced up at them, hands still fidgeting with their blade. 

“Well, even if I wasn’t here you’d have the Myer. You’d have Palmetto, Righteous, Keydi, Splint- not to mention Taeral and anyone in the gentleman’s club.”

“Kronus is easier to handle now- I think fighting for our lives helped iron out a lot of the little kinks.” They laughed weakly.

“I’ll say, you’re calling him by his proper name,” Reza hummed- relishing the rolling laughter that Anole continued. “And Anole, you’ve got me.”

Their laughter stopped, Anole swallowing quickly. “Yeah-”

“Yes, just-” Reza hurriedly returned to their work, reaching for a brick that wasn’t there. “I’ll go and collect more bricks. It’s just,” They shuffled around to face Anole. “You mean a lot to me. And I want to help you in any way I can.” Wiping dirty hands on their shorts, Reza offered a hand to their friend. 

Anole nodded, and Reza took the moment to look them over. Looked like their sunburn was getting worse, they’d have to talk to Anole about maybe getting a straw hat- that seemed to suit them. Reza wondered briefly where Ferry bought hers- before Anole took their hand and shook it. Their knife slid shut in their non dominant hand.

“Thanks Reza. I’m not- not quite… used to this kinda stuff. Haven’t like-  _ felt  _ in a long time.” They shook weakly and retreated, gaze returning to distinctly not at Reza. 

“Take your time. It’s okay to not be okay.”

“Yeah. Gettin’ used to that.”

“I need to go get those bricks,” Reza said, “So take all the time you need.” Moving up to their feet and brushing dirt from their knees- Reza held back the urge to lean down and press a kiss to their hair. Before- they might have. But now, knowing Anole’s past in more detail- they wouldn’t dream of confessing to them anytime soon. Anole needed a friend and support. Reza was more than happy to be that for them. "Be back in a moment."  


"Be here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot more introspection in this one, I wanted to bridge the focus to Reza's emotions for the next chapter.

Praying to an entity Reza had actually met in the flesh was easier and somehow harder than it had been in the past. Where Celestian had been a grand-parental figure growing up, a holy being in their early teen years, and a figure of great-  _ contention _ those four months ago… Reza found the experience of speaking to them humbling, instilling a great many reminders of the great expanse of space and time, and their very small part in it. At the same time- having a face (or lack thereof) to the name made everything feel all the more personal. Rationally, Celestian was no person and had no direct impact on any of the events, they said so themself. But at the same time, all of the emotions rattling around in Reza's chest, in their head, the unprocessed grief and hatred and confusion- 

They couldn't hate Azaron, surely he had a reason for stealing the heaven's light. Surely- right? Celestian saved Reza's life, yes, but if the mindflayer hadn't wished- Reza would be dead. There was no favoritism. There was no care. If the mindflayer hadn’t wished... Who was Reza going to be? Who would they be if they were dead under that spacecraft? Whose grave would Azaron stand at? Hands Reza knew could guide a childs in prayer, that could so gently play and adjust posture for stance- Could they truly leave the smoking collapse of a building without care? Or better- would Azaron have any reason to be the person Reza knew without their survival? Who  _ would _ Reza be, yes- but who  _ was _ Azaron? Reza had no idea who he was before their childhood, before he was a gith with a heavily burdened conscience. Azaron had committed a high crime, and brought the wreckage of heaven’s light to the planet. He found and raised Reza teaching them of the power and importance of Celestian. Taught them how important change was, how powerful and truly kind Celestian was to their children, how the holy stars were the guiding light of everyone not from this planet’s surface- Reza knew holy texts and prayers before they knew their name. 

More aptly- before they had a name given by the gith they thought was their father. They had a name for eight long years prior- now lost to smoke in the wind- drowned out by the smell of burning flesh that haunted their nightmares.

Taeral placed a hand on Reza's shoulder, snapping them back to reality. "You're shaking." They spoke softly. 

Reza took a deep breath in through their nose. "Thank you," they replied, hands unclasping for one to settle on their friends. "Thank you Taeral." 

"Of course," They squeezed Reza's shoulder softly. "You're free to take a break or call it a day," 

"No, I'd like to keep helping," they stood keeping a hand in Taeral's, "I just… you know how it can be. Complicated feelings." 

"I don't believe we have similar experiences, but I can imagine from what you've spoken of." They laughed softly as Reza stood at their full height. "I always forget how tall you are."

"I get that a lot," Reza smiled, pushing up their glasses. "Where were we?”

“I have been collecting up the abandoned robes and crates in the rear room, if you could help me out by helping me move them to this main area-” Taeral wiped sweat back out of their hair, “I’d much appreciate it.”

“Of course, I’m here to help in any way I can.” Reza dusted out their tank top and adjusted their shorts. Walking through the slowly raising church, Reza glanced around. Rooms were being restructured- some hiding full stacks of chairs and tables, others completely empty with only debris decorating them. Light filtered through shattered windows and broken walls, heat sizzled from the warming stones. Entering the rear room behind the main altar, Reza let out a whistle. 

"It has been a while," They smiled softly.

"Oh? Yes- I suppose it has been." Taeral glanced up at them. "Quite the contradictory reasons for recruiting you though." Without another word they were off, grabbing misplaced robes from stuck under bricks, from caught in broken barrels, anywhere they could reach. The room was to be put politely, organized chaos. Reza could recognize their friend's hand in different aspects, the large crates near the door were organized neatly with specific items in each, all pressed to fit properly. Items and shards were gathered in small piles, there were clear footpaths between the different areas. 

Reza approached the fullest crate, hands on the lip. A hesitant lift told them yes- this was very heavy for someone built like Taeral.

“Wonderful,” They called, “Where am I taking them?”

“Yes, yes- just to the main room nearest the entrance. I’ll be getting rid of most of this- it’s been rotting away in here for quite long enough.”

“Wonderful,” Legs spread, knees bent, palms burning- Reza faltered briefly to get hands under the crate (their shins had yet to forgive them for moving a container for the bakery down the street accidentally kicking it the entire walk). “I’ll be back for the others,” 

Back outside the building again felt massive and hollow. With Taeral it felt smaller- it felt like home with people you know and trust. But walking down the hall again by themselves, the decorations didn’t speak of Taeral. They screamed of Azaron. The work in progress mosaic on the floor screamed Taeral, but the dangling constellations, the tapestries, the colors-

Reza set the crate by the front door, and glanced into the offshoot room holding their palms. It looked mostly untouched all things considered, the window was broken and the chair that was standing prior was in a few pieces at the back wall. Reza could see it clearly though. They could see it whole- just beside the window, leaned back just slightly as the person seated in it pushed back against the windowsill with a foot. Anole sat all those nights ago in their myer gear, fiddling with their knife and staring out at the stars.  


And just like that- The room was more or less- just a room. The real focus was Anole. That was the point of contention, wasn’t it? Reza was the humanitarian, the helper, the aide. They could fight when they needed, or listen, or console at beck and call when they were given the chance (the instructions-) to. With Anole, that was new unsteady waters. They had to decide and act on their own, and they  _ really _ didn’t want to fuck that up. 

They didn’t… Reza had never really had a crush like this before. They had playground dates that were more so hang out sessions with whoever they found on the road. Listening to them talk about their life, their spouse, their home. Aside from falling a little in love with every stranger like Reza was wont to do, they rarely found themself in the reciprocal position. They didn’t open up to people easily. Even with Taeral, it was so easy to just be there and appreciate them- to not expect anything of them in return. Because in expecting, things could only go wrong. They would so much rather be the reverberation of thoughts and emotions- where they couldn’t say the wrong thing. They had never really- cared for someone before. They had never found a place like this where they could confidently say- they were home. Where they were loved. And now- 

“Reza?” Taeral called from the back room- voice echoing and falling off through each hall. 

“Coming!” Reza called back, sucking in a deep breath and shaking out their hands. The room didn’t have a door for Reza to shut- so shutting it out of their mind would have to do.

When Reza returned Taeral was folding cloaks. They glanced up at the entrance, and paused. 

“Reza, something is bothering you,” Their hands slowed but didn’t stop in their work. 

“Yes,” They sighed, “But it’s- it’s really fine.”

“You’ve been hanging around Anole too much,” Taeral smiled softly, “such avid denial.”

“Well- Alright,” They rolled their eyes with a smile. “I’m just- concerned for my future here.” It wasn’t a  _ complete  _ lie- but it was the closest they could get at the moment. 

“Oh? Are you going to travel again?” Taeral dropped the folded cloak in the crate and grabbed another. 

“No, I would prefer no to. May I-?” They extended a hand.

“Yes of course,” Taeral handed over another loose cloak, which Reza took. 

“And that’s quite frightening to be honest. For my entire life I’ve been taught of the holy stars-”  _ Before I had an identity, before I had a name, after my family was killed and home burned down- _ “and- after travelling for a few years it was decided best to stay put-”  _ Was it for me like I thought? It would make far more sense for the heat to die down on Azaron and safety be in hiding- _ “I’ve never had a place like this where I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving at the first sign of danger, for self preservation.” _ Now why would that be? Why would you ever feel like there was never a place you truly belonged? Why would you feel like that your entire life may be uprooted at the drop of a hat and that your world may be stripped away from you? _

A cool hand settled on their wrist. They were supposed to be folding but the cloak was on the floor. Their hands were shaking again. “Reza,”

Reza blinked, feeling hot tears trail down their cheeks. When did that happen?

“Reza, please look at me,” A cool hand on their cheek now. “Why are you so hurt?”

How were they supposed to respond? Because of Azaron, the man they thought was their father? Because they learned their entire life was a lie? Because they weren’t sure if they could love without unintentionally hurting the people they cared about? Because the only time they could ever say they were loved was now such a point of contention in unreality? Because they cared for the city- cared for people like Bingle, Banjo, Soyer, Anole, Taeral and didn’t know how to let themselves be cared for in return? Because their mind kept telling them at any moment everything was going to fall apart?

Their voice was so-  _ so  _ remarkably small for how tall they were. It broke on the one word.

“Change.”

They distantly noticed their glasses were removed- but they sank to their knees unbothered. Taeral slid arms over their shoulders, fingertips digging softly against their skin. Reza raised their arms, sliding them around Taeral’s middle. Light fingers brushed back Reza’s curls and they kept their face against Taeral. 

“The stars shoot through the scrolling night, but they will never disappear. The cosmos spin and pool, but they will never unravel. The sun and moon dance across the sky, but they will never fall. We will survive in a billion finite ways- reborn from stardust and determination beyond our sufferings in this moment. It is sublime, yes, but it need not be feared.”

It sounded different spoken in common, so much so that Reza could hear it in Taeral’s voice and not Azaron’s.

“You are not alone. We will be okay.” They called softly.

Right here, right now, in a small quiet room Reza couldn’t necessarily believe them- but they could hear them. And that would have to be enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *uses sublime in a gay little way that shows I studied romanticism and architectural garden history*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reza has a meltdown, and admits they're not okay. Not as flowery as Taeral's but way more tactile and reflective than Anole's. Seemed fitting.

“Something’s bothering you.” The quite intrusive statement was accompanied by a hand smacked down on the desk where Reza had been studying (dissociating for the past thirteen minutes, Taeral had been keeping track) in the temple. Reza jolted upright, pushing their glasses back onto their nose.

“Excuse me?” They stared up at Anole, the owner of the hand, and followed their own glance back to Taeral, standing with their hands at their front.

“You’ve been unfocused all day,” They stepped up beside Anole, “But this is beyond just distraction.” 

“I’m-” Reza sucked in a breath. “I’m fine.”

“We care about you.” Anole said, their face pinched tight. 

“I know, where is this going?” Reza felt their brow furrow against their will.

Anole- completely undisturbed by Reza’s question turned to Taeral instead. “See? Told you they'd deflect.” 

“Reza, we care for you- please do tell us what’s been bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me-”

“Please, tell us the truth. We want to help.”

“Why do you get so bothered when we say we care about you?” Anole interjected, pulling back from their hunch over the desk- arms folded at their chest. “We lo-”

Reza lifted a hand- eyes closed. “Please don’t.”

“And what’s up with that?” Anole snapped next. “Are we dating or not? It’s been months.”

“Anole, please try to be considerate,” Taeral put a hand on their shoulder. “There is no shame in having language preferences,”

“But it’s just at them-”

Reza’s hand was shaking now. They hadn’t moved. They couldn’t move. Somewhere deep down in their heart they knew it would come to this- but deep in their mind instead they could recognize the self sabotage that had  _ really  _ led to this situation. Reza’s partners were concerned, and they were trying to talk to them about it. But each time Reza tried to open up, tried to explain, tried to give just that little bit like Anole and Taeral had, like they did and were so willing to in agreeing to all give this situation a chance- 

Reza was frozen.

“Reza, we care deeply about you- please communicate with us. It’s distressing to see you like this.” 

“I just need some space,” The pun wasn’t lost on them, at least not until they looked to Taeral seeing the Celestian necklace hung around their neck. It made Reza feel sick. 

“Is there something we can do to help you?”

“N-” 

“It’s your father.” Anole said plainly.

“ _ He is not my father!” _ Reza snapped, slamming their fist down on the desk.

“Anole!” Taeral bit next.

“That’s what it’s about!” Anole continued, “He's been bothering you for months! Talk to us-”

“I shouldn’t need to!” Reza shoved their glasses off their face, grasping the frames in a massive palm. “I’m-!” There was a sentence when Reza started talking, but now there was only silence. Nothing was coming out.  


“Reza, you’re hurt.” Anole’s voice was softer now. “Don’t say you’re fine- ‘cause you’re not. Don’t say you aren’t allowed to hurt- ‘cause you are. Just tell us.”

“I’m-”

It was true. Reza was hurting, Reza was confused, scared and uncertain. But in admitting that- what would come of their past? That would only say that they were  _ always  _ broken. Saying that this state they were in- the state they were from their very first memory of being raised- this wasn’t right? Saying the words out loud would only solidify what they had been so hesitant to even acknowledge. They were a springboard for others, they were taught passivity, they were educated on observing the passage of time and spending the days in quiet contemplation of their own insignificant speck of status in the universe. Reza never stayed, never loved, never longed, never fought, because it would all be gone sooner or later. Everything would change, whether they wanted it to or not. 

If Reza was standing in an hourglass, what would be the point of clawing at the sides? What would be the point of admitting the insignificance of their turbulent feelings and having to come to terms with them, when soon enough they would be swallowed whole by the sands? That pain was short and insignificant, that pain was always replaced by the flipping of the instrument to begin again. Fighting made no difference. Anything at all would only lead to sand down their throat, burning in their eyes, filling their lungs. If Reza admitted that this hurt, they would admit their entire life had been nothing but a vicious cycle of pain and their scraping along wasn’t living- but it was simply surviving. They were so passive, because the pain was less than what they believed fighting would feel like. Because they never fought. They could never imagine if taking the chance to love despite their teaching would bring anything other than this hurt. This hurt was all they had ever known.

Reza never had a chance to be happy- and acknowledging it? Saying it out loud? That was terrifying. 

They never could sit down and see their impact on the world, they could never see a family member who could tell them stories of their bloodline, they never had a friend they could come back to, never had someone to teach them to care for themself before anyone else. They were a sapling with ungrounded roots. They were a leaf, caught in the wind as it tore to pieces. They were nothing. They had no name, no identity, no personality. They were change. 

They never had a choice in anything. Life happened again, and again, and again  _ at _ them- being orphaned, being adopted, being taught a religion, being told to travel, being arrested, being led around by Bingle and Banjo who managed to make decisions, working with the Myer- Reza was a background character in their own life. They didn’t have a choice but were tricked into believing that  _ was _ their choice, like the dying words of a stupid hero lost to a self fufilling prophecy. They had to believe their existence was good. Because if it wasn’t good- If this wasn’t all a line to lead them through life making a difference and becoming who they were supposed to be-

Who was this firbolg? Who was sitting at this small wooden desk, piles of parchment and books around them? Whose face was darkening with a fearful blush, whose fist was raising in the air, who wanted to scream as they smashed a hand down and splintered the desk? Who were they? Why were they not allowed to be happy?

Reza hurt. Reza hurt a lot. 

Only part of it was the glass shards now stuck in their palm. The huge, drowning, crushing, disgusting part was the very small words that left their lips. “I’m not alright.” Their fists tightened now, the crunch of metal and glass again and they sunk in on themselves, arms over their head. “I’m not alright,” They said again, shoulders shaking. “ _ I’m not alright-”  _ They shook violently now, rocking back and forth in the small chair. The wood creaked under their weight. Reza was unravelling at the seams, thread pulled too tight for too long. 

“That’s okay, I’m gonna touch you, okay?” The voice was so far away, barely audible over the unnatural hiccuping and keening Reza didn’t recognize. They tried to nod- the movement making them choke on a gasp and cough-

Warm hands on their shoulders, skin that ran hot compared to their own. Handprints that pressed against their skin, grounding in their gentle dig. 

“Let it out,” they said again. 

Reza rocked more, arms pressing hard around their head and hands opening- ready to grab their own hair and tear it out-

Another set of hands now, cool and deft in their job- interlocking with Reza’s blocky fingers. Tightening carefully to keep their palms open- but not restraining the firbolg as they jolted and continued to pitch. 

“I hate it!” Reza choked out, eyes screwed shut as they fought to breathe. “ _I hate it!_ _It’s not_ ** _fair!_** _”_ They screamed with every emotion they had never let themselves feel; they screamed like a child who for the first time felt true despair, they screamed their voice raw, stomping their feet, shaking their arms, thrashing their head. 

“I don’t want to be broken! _I don’t want to be like this! I want to be loved!_ I want to  _ know-!”  _ The floor fell out from under their lungs- they stilled near immediately and sucked in a deep breath. The emotion that had consumed them, that had drowned them had burned off from their skin hot hot steam. They could think again. “I want to know I’m loved, I want to believe it.” They shook weakly, head falling and fingers relaxing. Their whole body tingled, their eyes burned. 

The hands on their shoulders pulled away and Reza wanted to follow- until they appeared again. Warm hands on their face, cool fingers unlocking to hold their wrists and lower them to their side. 

“Reza,” Anole said softly. 

“Reza.” Taeral spoke next, their arms sliding around their shoulders from behind. 

“You…” Anole took in a deep breath, and Taeral continued. 

“You are allowed to be hurt. You are hurt. But you are deserving of love.” They spoke softly, forehead pressed into Reza’s hair. 

“You deserve love. And we’ll be right here to say it as often as you need to hear it.” Warm forehead pressed against their own. 

“I deserve love.” They spoke softly, the words foreign and unnatural on their tongue. The tears returned in fervour now, but as did the arms to hold them, and the soft sweet voices to tell them those three little words over and over and over.

Taeral was taking the glass shards to the bin outside as Anole wrapped Reza’s hand with focus- their tongue peeking out from between their lips. 

“I’m not the greatest at this but if Tae hadn’t’a used their slots for the day on mending the desk and the chair,” Anole wrapped with intense focus, Reza watched with undeniable fondness in their gaze. “How you feeling?” 

“Alright, I suppose. Truly. I’ve… I’ve been thinking.” They said gently. 

“Bout what?” 

“I think I want to speak to Azaron.” Reza replied. 

“You… you sure?” They glanced up, hands frozen around Reza’s own.

“Not anytime soon granted, but… I think… I think it will be a step forward. I’ve been dragging my feet for quite a long time with him. I want to… I would like some closure.”

Anole could hear the uncertainty in Reza’s voice- they shuffled just briefly before pressing a kiss to Reza’s forehead. “If that’s what you think, and you still feel that way after a little more thought, then I support you.”

Taeral returned to the room, “As do I.”

“You heard?” Reza smiled softly. 

“Not fully, but I trust their judgement nowadays,” Taeral approached the pair- one hand on each partner's shoulder.

“I’d like to see Azaron.”

“We’ll gladly accompany you or send you off.” They smiled at Reza, then Anole. “See? I do agree.”

“You’re so smug,” Anole grinned, half a laugh on their lips. “Just ‘casue I found the right kinda fire doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

“I love you both,” Reza laughed softly, withdrawing their hand to do the final wrap and tuck the gauze into the wrap. “I really do.”

A kiss on each cheek, and a rowdy giggle as Reza smeared dark lipstick across their pale blue skin. Then everyone was laughing. It felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm kinda wanna write the father child meeting but who knows ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
